


Four Superpowers Hannibal King Has but Doesn't Want

by Kris



Category: Blade (Movie Series)
Genre: Character Death, Child Abuse, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-04
Updated: 2009-06-04
Packaged: 2017-10-12 07:30:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/122437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kris/pseuds/Kris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four superpowers Hannibal King has but doesn't want.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four Superpowers Hannibal King Has but Doesn't Want

1\. Invisibility, Age 10

Ask me, he wills the teacher. Mrs. Mitchell has been staring at him all day. Ask me, he thinks at her. Even when he can't see her he can feel the way her eyes follow him around the classroom. She doesn't though, she just watches him until it's 3:00 and it's quitting time. 

He packs up his bag and he can feel his stomach rolling. He wants to sit down and cry. He wants the world to see him and do something. He doesn't want to go to the parking lot and get into his uncle's station wagon. He doesn't want to go back to his uncle's house anymore.

Ask me, he wishes desperately that she would. He drags his feet so he's the last one to leave the classroom. Mrs. Mitchell coughs delicately when he starts to walk out the door and he freezes at the sound.

"Hannibal?" she asks and he turns around to look at her.

"Yes, Mrs. Mitchell?" Ask me.

"Did you...enjoy art class?" Did your Uncle leave that bruise on your face? Is that his handprint around your neck? Do you want me to get help?

"Yes, Mrs. Mitchell."

The station wagon is waiting outside and Hannibal climbs into the back. The backhand across his face hurts and his lip splits open, spilling red down his chin and onto his white shirt.

"What the fuck took you so long?" Hannibal doesn't answer, doesn't have to, he's invisible. He's the great invisible punching bag.

2\. Super Hearing, Age 15

He's going to get out of here one day and he's never going to think about this hellhole ever again. 

His grades are good but his teachers say that if he can excel in a couple of classes, pass the exams, he'll get noticed by the entrance committees at the colleges, he'll get a scholarship, he'll get out.

Nighttime is the only time to study, when his uncle is finished with him, when his chores are done, when the sun is just coming up on the horizon, that's the only time he can study. He reads textbooks. Math and Science and Literature over and over until he's reciting Shakespeare and Faulkner and Pi in his sleep, whenever he gets to sleep.

The hardest thing to do, though, is to be quiet, to sit in his room, reading and making no sound so that when the floorboards outside his room creak in the middle of the night, he can have himself arranged in pretend sleep before his uncle checks in on him.

3\. ESP, Age 20

 _You know the kind of woman that just screams trouble? You see her, and every warning bell in your brain starts going off, but you still manage to ask for her number?_

He knows that making this phone call is a bad idea. He knows it so deep down that it surprises him that he's still willing to go with it anyway. Hannibal's not one to fight his instincts. But she was freaky fun at the club; her brother was freaky fun too. Everyone had enjoyed themselves, and everything had been muted down from the booze, and bright and sharp from the E, sort of like looking at the lights of the club through a fish bowl.

Now there's a tribal rhythm pulsing from the speakers in this private little room of their's and Danica's staring at him, with her freaky eyes, and licking her lips like he's a bar of Hershey's Special Dark and her brother is standing behind him, and he's got his hands on Hannibal's hips, swaying their bodies in time to the bass. 

"You're hard as fuck, baby," Asher says and Hannibal sighs, a needful little sound, when Asher's hand cups him. "You want me to do something about that, baby?"

"Yeah," he says and rocks back against Asher's hard cock. "I think I'd like that."

"Hear that, Dan, he wants me to do something about it." Danica smirks and stands and sways closer, kind of hypnotizing, like a snake before it strikes.

The comparison alone tells Hannibal he really should have been paying more attention to the way his brain was screaming ‘wrong.’ But by then it's too late because he's just screaming and she's got her teeth buried in his neck.

4\. Super Strength, Age ?

It's not a big deal, really. Not to any of the others. But to Hannibal, he still gets a kick out of it. He's a vampire, but really he's like Superman, just without the cape and the flying and the x-ray vision. Okay, maybe he's not like Superman, but hell, he can leap onto most tall buildings in a single bound, he can run almost faster than a speeding bullet, he can almost lift a car up over his head. It's the best, it's everything. Until the explosion in the common area, and the daughter of one of the cattle is stuck under a piece of wall. She was cool, he liked her. He can still hear her screaming for him over the flames. Suddenly almost isn't good enough, not anymore. What's the point of all this almost power if you can't fucking use it for something that means a fucking god damn. God fucking dammit.

 **and one he wishes he had**

5\. Healing

"It hurts, it hurts so fucking much that I don't know what to do anymore. And where the hell is Blade? He should be here, he should be on the front lines." It's not the first time she's said it. Abigail is the definition of lost. She is without direction, she has no idea where to go from here. She's stuck in the newly restored Honeycomb Hideout, taking care of an eight-year-old girl, keeping their people in line, playing mom to his older brother. There's so much that needs to be done. People who died that need to be replaced, weapons that need to be restocked, groceries that need to be bought.

They go out, they replace people, they replace guns and bullets and food, they kill whatever vampires are left in this town, they come back. They go out again. And again, until the hunt turns to other things. Until Underworld is their new research material, Werewolves are their new targets and Zoe is ten and they can't heal her.

"Where the hell is Blade?" Abigail asks. Hannibal smiles down at her, backlit by the enormous UV lights that don't do much for them anymore. Werewolves aren't afraid of sunlight. He keeps pressure on the wound with one hand and pulls the needle from his belt with his other.

"He's coming, sweetie," he says. Her eyes are unfocused.

"What's that?" she asks when she sees the needle.

"It's going to stop the bleeding," Hannibal says.

"Will it hurt?" she asks and he's hit with déjà vu.

"It'll sting a little," he says and he pushes the needle home into her jugular and watches the light in her eyes go out.

"We had a good run, kid," he says.

"Didn't run far enough," Zoe says, stepping forward. The light glints off her fangs.

"That's life,” he says and pulls his gun. 

Almost isn't good enough.


End file.
